


Ring

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet, Genderfluid Character, Multi, Other, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bofur enjoys Nori taking their relationship one step further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gaianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaianna/gifts).



> A/N: For Gaianna, who requested genderfluid!Nori/Bofur fluff/switching-pronouns/sex/nipples/necklaces etc~
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’re still a few hours of daylight left by the time they reach the Green Dragon Inn, and Bofur still has a bit of energy left, slipping off his pony to stretch his tired bones. Nori lands beside him, but Balin doesn’t move, announcing, “I think I’ll go on to give Bilbo a visit.” Nori groans, as though another ride would be torture, when in fact the Shire’s been the easiest part of their journey. Certainly easier than crossing it the first time, too, when they had a pack of orcs on their tail and a whole company to keep. Bofur shrugs, following Nori to lead their ponies to the stables. 

“We’ll be along in a little while,” he decides. “Best not to crowd the poor fellow again.” Three dwarves wouldn’t be nearly so bad as the party that first landed on his doorstep, but Bofur and Nori can be some of the most troublesome—their stomachs are only second to Bombur and they can be louder than Dwalin in a battle. Balin smiles like he understands, nodding his goodbye. Bofur barely bothers with a wave—they’ll see him soon enough, and they’ve already been together too long. 

Finally, he and Nori are alone, and they share a look to that affect, a twinkle in both their eyes. 

Then they’re headed through the stooped wooden door, rounded at the ends, like hobbit architecture is wont to be. After the towering walls of Erebor, the tiny inn feels almost cramped inside, and strange to be out of wood instead of stone, but Bofur wasn’t born in luxury. Nori wasn’t either, and they wander in down the narrow entrance to the battered old counter, eyeing the half-full tables in the parlor. There’s a steady buzz of laughter and songs that die into hushed, suspicious whispers, but they’ve known Bilbo enough to have expected as much. Even before they were noticed, it was never as lively as a Dwarven pub would be. Certainly not one with Bofur and Nori inside it. 

Hiking his baggage onto the counter to give his shoulder some relief, Bofur calls to the greying hobbit behind the counter, “Your best room, if you please.”

The hobbit takes a smack of his long pipe, peering up at them through squinting eyes, then mutters in a croaky voice, “I have two, up on the first landing.”

“We’ll just be needing one,” Nori corrects, grinning their charming smile. It doesn’t seem to have any affect on the innkeeper, who only scowls. He eyes the two of them, like waiting for some elaborate explanation, though, from what Bilbo’s said, hobbits aren’t big on Dwarven tales. 

When neither of them say anymore, he asks slowly, “For both of yeh?”

Bofur throws an arm around Nori’s shoulders, chirping brightly, “That’s right. One for me and the babe, if you please.” He turns to press a wet kiss to Nori’s cheek, who grins against him; Bofur can feel the dimple and the scratch of Nori’s beard against his chin. Nori reaches to affectionately tug one of Bofur’s braids, and the innkeeper wrinkles his nose. He must be a lonely man. 

But he gets out of his rickety chair and comes out from behind the counter, nonetheless waving them along. Bofur follows him up the stairs, still holding onto Nori, who whispers next to his ear, “We might’ve been better off if you introduced me as your ugly wife.”

“You mean beautiful wife,” Bofur corrects. He knows hobbits have a funny view of gender, but he can never tag Nori as ugly no matter what the reason. He considers himself quite lucky in that department, like in many others. Nori chuckles fondly. 

“I’ll do it next time,” they offer, still quiet so the hobbit won’t hear over the creak of the steps. “I’ve run enough scams to say me and the hubby with a straight face.”

“Maybe next time I’ll really have a hubby,” Bofur counters. Nori’s grin grows. 

Bofur means it like part of the joke: a natural piece of their easy conversation. But behind that surface level, he _means_ it, and he can’t help but hope that at some point they do reach that level of bonding. So far they’ve borne symbols of their friendship, when the quest, in truth, has brought them far closer. They’ve always been well suited, anyway. They’ve always had too much fun. Bofur thinks he might’ve always _loved_ Nori, in one way or another, and nothing else has ever made him feel so _complete_ as being with his Nori.

The radiant look on Nori’s face says that they agree. But the three of them reach the second floor before the two dwarves can whisper anymore about it, and the innkeeper takes them to the room at the end, pointing a stout finger at the door. “Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” he grunts, though he thoroughly looks like he hopes they won’t bother him again. Even as Nori’s fishing out a gold coin for a tip, he grumps, “I’ll expect payment in the morning.”

“We might stay longer,” Bofur muses, while Nori holds the coin out for the hobbit’s surprised hand. “What do you think, Love?”

“I don’t think a halfling bed could take us for two nights,” Nori chuckles, while the innkeeper takes the coin and resumes scowling at their joke, hurriedly pushing past them and scurrying back down the hall. Bofur and Nori let him go, busying themselves instead with stepping into their new room. 

It’s lovely enough, as most of the Shire is. Bofur sets his luggage down on an empty table while Nori closes the door, both of them glancing to the window. It holds a pretty view of the rolling hills beyond, the lazy occupants of Hobbiton chasing pigs and picking flowers below. The rest of the room isn’t much to look at: a crooked picture frame with a pastel painting in it, a beaten chair pushed against the table, a low bench below the window and a bed against the far wall with frilly beige linens. Bofur marches to it first, already kicking out of his boots on the way. When he takes a seat on the mattress, it sags beneath his weight and doesn’t rebound. After the stiff ground on their journey, it’ll do. When Bofur’s done taking in his new surroundings, he asks, “Should we go visit Bilbo now?”

“We should wait for tomorrow,” Nori answers, walking over to drape their arms over Bofur’s shoulders, bending to give Bofur a kiss. It was clearly meant to be quick, but Bofur grabs on to one of the handles in Nori’s beard, holding them in. Lips lingering together, Bofur rubs his nose affectionately against Nori’s, feeling, not for the first time on this journey, that everything couldn’t have worked out better. 

But as much as he’d like to stay and kiss Nori into oblivion, Bofur notes, “We can do that anytime.”

“No,” Nori insists, “this is special.” They peck Bofur again, pulling back to purr, alluring and suggestive, “It’s our first vacation, our first time away together, since we risked our necks to put Thorin on that throne. Now that it’s all said and done and we’ve rebuilt enough to have this small break...” They trail off, but the unspoken words are there: they’ve earned some time _together_. Traveling with Balin was pleasant enough, but it did put time and noise restraints on their dalliances. 

Bofur still pats Nori’s hip and teases, “You say that like we don’t fuck like rabbits.”

“Hush,” Nori insists, and the next kiss is so strong that it makes Bofur momentarily breathless, caught up in the insistent push of Nori’s tongue and the feeling of warm hands petting along his beard and back into his hair, holding him close. Even with as long as they’ve known each other, kissing Nori is newly exciting every time. Bofur’s never quite had enough, and when Nori pulls back, Bofur tries to follow them. 

“Sit here. I’ve got a present for you,” Nori purrs, while Bofur sits back and at attention. His eyebrows lift curiously at the promise; he didn’t know they were doing gifts. They’ve surprised one another often enough over the years, but there’s usually _some_ reason. For Nori to have gotten something without Bofur having seen, they must’ve done it all the way back in Erebor. 

Watching Nori walk over and crouch down to fiddle in their luggage is it’s own special joy. Bofur enjoys every part of Nori’s body, especially the round hump of their rear as they bend over, thrusting it out and twitching with searching movements. Of course Bofur grows interested—he always does when they’re alone together. His first thought is that it’ll be something sexual, although Bofur’s usually the one to give out toys, mostly ones he’s designed himself to tuck inside Nori’s holes or latch onto Nori’s rosy nipples, though Nori’s the one that usually provides the chains to hang between, or the ropes to tie Bofur up with. But this time, when Nori straightens up and turns around, they aren’t holding anything inherently sexual. 

They’re holding a thick, golden necklace, hanging between their fingers to glisten in the evening light. It’s carved with an elaborate set of runes that Bofur recognizes right away—he’d always hoped something like this would come. He can feel a hand lifting to his mouth, shock twisting his features before the happiness settles in. Nori grins almost bashfully, though they’re never fully _shy_ , and comes closer, the necklace outstretched. 

Bofur almost asks if they’re sure, but of course they must be. Both of them are from the Blue Mountains; they know what a necklace means. Any kind of circlet amongst dwarves is a symbol of a _bond_ , but those of necklaces are particularly deep. Necklaces, especially snug ones, go right against the neck, so every breath must pass through them. This one looks like it’ll be tight like a collar, and that suits them perfectly—almost _kinky_ , like a mark of ownership. So long as Bofur wears it, other dwarves will know he’s taken, that he’s already been _claimed_ , and that he keeps that bond close to his chest: a part of his air and life. Even better, he’ll be able to touch it and have that strength, that physical promise that he’s not alone, that constant reminder of the hold his lover has on him. A shiver of pleasure runs through him just thinking of it, of wearing _Nori’s necklace,_ and he opens his mouth to gush, but doesn’t have the words. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, but Nori stands steadfast and sure. Without a word, Bofur starts to unravel his scarf. 

He tosses it aside and pries at the collar of his tunic, jerking it open to expose his throat. He tips his head back to bear it, breathing hard with interest. Nori’s eyelids have come down slightly, their cheeks turning faintly pink. They mumble huskily, “I expect you to get me one in return.”

“I’ll mine you the gems myself when we’re back in Erebor,” Bofur promises, already designing the present in his head. The thought of Nori wearing his jewelry is enough to make his heart clench and his lap noticeably stir, and he has to bite his lip to hold back his noise. 

Nori bends down over him, parting the necklace by the clasp in the back and opening it around Bofur’s throat. Bofur lets his eyes close, savouring the feeling. It’s cool against his warm skin, smooth and solid. When it’s resting against his collarbone, it’s slightly heavy, which he’s pleased for: the weight will be a constant reminder. Nori fastens it shut again, their hands falling away. 

They breathe, “You’re beautiful.”

Bofur opens his eyes and insists, “Never as beautiful as my partner.”

Nori answers by climbing forward. One knee lifts to Bofur’s side, the other tossing over Bofur’s thighs, and then Nori’s in his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. Nori tilts to kiss him, Bofur already rising back. In between a slew of them, he asks, “Does this mean I’m getting lucky?”

“We have to seal our bond,” Nori answers, voice a tad strained with lust—something Bofur more than understands. Nori’s started grinding their hips into Bofur’s lap, rolling steadily forward, pressing them together through all their too many layers. With a push of Nori’s broad hands, Bofur hits the bed, bent over it with Nori sprawled over him, bearing down on him. He can feel his hat separating from his head but is too busy kissing Nori again to care. 

While Nori fingers the necklace draped across his throat, Bofur asks, full of anticipation, “What am I getting tonight?”

Nori nips at Bofur’s chin, runs his teeth up Bofur’s jaw, and whispers huskily in Bofur’s ear, “A girl with a dripping pussy.” 

Bofur _moans_. He enjoys every incarnation of _Nori_ , but the way Nori breathes her invitations always gets Bofur extra hot. He already knows what to do. He pushes both hands under Nori’s belt, one slipping around the back and the other ghosting down the front. He squeezes a handful of Nori’s round ass, earning a pleasured groan, and curls his other fingers around Nori’s pussy, already warm and squirming against him. He can feel the moisture, matching his own erection. She bucks into him, biting off a swear, and Bofur teases the slit with one digit, nipping at Nori’s lip. Nori gasps and bites him back harder, just short of drawing blood. 

Then Nori’s drifting down his neck, pressing kisses around his stubble, down over his chin, opening around his adam’s apple to suck and running work-calloused fingers along the line of the necklace. Bofur tosses his head back, groaning and pressing himself up into her wanton mouth, and he can feel the chuckle suppressed against his skin before Nori’s rolling up his tunic, stuffing it beneath his arms. She only gets to lick over one nipple before he’s grabbing her around the waist and picking her up, tossing her towards the pillows.

He rolls over just as fast, hurrying up between her legs on all fours. Nori lifts up on her elbows to watch him but waits there, falling back for her gelled hair to hit the pillow as soon as he’s above her. Her legs automatically lift around him, clinging to his sides. It’s his turn to push at her tunic, and she pulls him in by the braids to kiss while he does it, shoving everything out of the way until his hands can run freely down her front. There’s a familiar pattern of stretch marks across her round stomach, a bit of brown hair on her chest, and two flat, plush breasts for him to grab and squeeze. He rubs his palms against her nipples until she releases his mouth to gasp, and then he’s ducking down to latch onto one nipple, sucking it right up into his mouth. The other he teases between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it around and tugging it up. Nori groans and arches up into him, making him suckle all the harder. He flays his tongue over the little nub until she’s writhing beneath him, and then he lets go to lap broad strokes across the reddened circle. It glistens with his spit, turned brighter. He gives it a kiss, then licks over to the next one. 

Bofur could suck on Nori’s breasts for ages, but he never gets the chance to do so long. She gets too horny too easily, just like her lover, and soon she’s moaning, “Bofur... Bofur c’mon...”

He grins around his mouthful. When he lets go, there’s a wet popping sound, and he licks at it some more while he purrs, “Sorry. You know how much I love your pretty tits.”

“And I love your dick,” she nearly growls right back, “So get on with it.” Bofur obliges, coming back up to her mouth while his hand reaches down to unclasp his belt. It goes the way of his scarf, tossed randomly aside, and leaves him free to fish inside his trousers. He’ll pulling out his cock a moment later, throbbing hard in his hand. Even before he’s lined it up, Nori’s moaning, and he rubs the tip against her stomach just to draw out the pleasure. 

He doesn’t need to finger her. He does, often enough, just as he stretches her with his mouth and toys and whatever else he can use, but she’s always wet enough for him, loose and ready—her body’s well suited to their attitudes. They love hard, and they fuck harder. He holds his cock at her dripping pussy, drawing the tip up and down her crinkled lips, until he can’t stand to be outside of her even a second longer. 

The first push inside is always pure bliss, just like every thrust that follows. Nori cries out, arching up as Bofur slides in at just the perfect angle. He knows her body like the back of his hand, no matter which way she presents it. He rocks inside with steady, in-and-out movements, prolonging the fun, while her greedy channel flexes and adjusts around him. He’s not sure if he’s moaning or screaming; his head’s thinning. He makes it in to the hilt, rolling his hips to make sure it’s plugging her up as much as it can. She clenches at him. She runs her hands up his hairy stomach, reaching for his shoulders, and in that moment, his whole world is _Nori_.

She pulls him down as he sets in to _fuck her_ , pulling back and slamming in with enough force to make the bed creak. She gasps, and he covers her mouth to swallow it. Her fingers tighten against his back. His hips snap down into her, and from there on it’s one wild thrust after another. He fills her to the brim with his thick cock, while her fat thighs pull him in and her mouth devours his, their tongues never having enough. He can feel the necklace hanging down off his neck, dusting over her collarbone, and it makes him all the fiercer. Passion fills him. It always does when he’s inside _Nori_ , his perfect partner, but the physical weight, the proof of their connection, overwhelms him with love. He finds himself babbling between kisses, “I love you _so much_.”

Nori gasps, “ _Bofur._ ” The way she says his name puts stars behind his eyes. She seems to rock with him, rising up to meet his cock and sinking as it pierces her, sucking hungrily at it when he draws out again. They strain the bedsprings together. His hands run everywhere. First he’s grasping her hips, then he’s feeling her chest, squeezing her small tits and grinding the heels of his hands into her nipples. He traces up her neck and twists his fingers in her beard, keeping her against him for kiss after kiss. When he thinks about it, he can’t imagine why he’d ever suggest leaving this room. He misses Bilbo of course, but he _adores_ Nori, adores spending time with her, in her, and all he can think right now is _Nori, Nori, Nori._

She grabs him suddenly, fiercely, wraps around him tight and plows up into him, knocking him aside. Buried inside her, he glues himself to her body, letting himself be rolled until he’s near the edge of the bed, lying on his back. She straightens up again, sitting up to straddle him. Her trousers are only pushed down enough for his cock to be inside her, but she peels her tunic right off and discards it beside them. Her hands run up his chest while he ogles her beautiful body, bared just for him. She sets in to ride him just as he fucked her. His hands grip at her hips, wanting to help. 

She doesn’t need it. Nori rides cock better than any dwarf Bofur’s ever seen. It doesn’t matter which hole Bofur’s in; Nori can drive him wild. She grinds herself against him, drawing him in tight circles, then picks herself up on strong thighs and shoves back down with all her weight, making him cry out. Slapping sounds echo about the room as she bounces up and down on his cock, eyes ravenously eating him right up. 

“You looks so good in my collar,” she moans, holding onto his belly but staring at his neck. He can feel the coolness of the necklace and doesn’t correct her terminology. “So handsome,” she gasps, switching to roll her hips again, then back to brutal, up and down thrusts. “Just like I knew you would...”

“I’m proud to wear it,” Bofur growls back, never meaning anything more in his life. He doubts he’ll ever take it off. Some of Nori’s hair falls out of its formation with her relentless thrusts, and she lifts a hand to push it off her sweaty forehead. Both their bodies are shimmering with it, consumed in the heat and stench of sex. He runs both hands up to her nipples, pinches them both, and tugs her down by them. 

She bends enough to kiss the middle of his necklace and lick down to his nipples while he plays with hers. It sends even more blood to his engorged cock, if there’s any left. He can tell he’s coming to his limit. But he doesn’t want to let go, and he tries to push her off, only for her to sink her teeth into his nipple. Even used to love-bites, he screams, and she lets go of it to soothe it with her tongue, then nips up to his mouth and kisses him. He grabs her back and kisses her with everything he has. 

And his stomach clenches, his balls tightening. Her walls seems to fluctuate around him more than ever, sucking lewdly at him, and he _wants her so much_ he can barely stand it. He thinks of draping his necklace around her neck, and he screams into her mouth, thrusting up so high that she nearly bounces off. The tip of his cock spurts a sudden river, his hips madly cantering into her. He spills his seed inside her and pumps it all in, while their kisses stifle both their screams. 

For the span of that delicious orgasm, Bofur burns up and feels nothing but Nori’s tongue. His eyes are closed, yet his vision goes white, and when he opens his eyes again to gasp, Nori’s slumping over him. Bofur’s dizzy, weightless, wonderful. He lies still, panting, and she sits atop him, shuddering and only weakly humping him. He feels perfect. 

She’s followed him. He can tell. A few more languid thrusts, and Nori pulls off of him, letting his cock fall out and drag both their juices. Then she falls right back onto him, heavy, sweaty, and burning hot. He wouldn’t have her any other way. 

It’s several quiet minutes full of panting before she rolls off, landing at his side. There’s only one pillow, so they have to share it. Bofur lifts one hand to lay across her, always wanting that contact, and the other he brings to his throat, tracing the collar. It seems to spark with their lovemaking, already logging memories. 

Another few hazy moments, and Nori asks lazily, “Should we go visit Bilbo now?”

Bofur thinks about it. But then he decides, “No. We should see if we can fit two hulking dwarves into a hobbit bathtub.” Nori laughs. 

She turns onto her side to kiss his cheek, and Bofur latches on, moving to trace her neck in a makeshift necklace of kisses.


End file.
